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Completely random scribble


Justin
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A shock to my back awakens me from my sleep.
Is it a playful memory of a lover past by?
Or the seering apparition of bullet...
Longing, hoping, burning for me to die?

What's the difference?
Loved and lost.
Ghosts that smell of sweet incense.
An act of involition, from a smoking gun.
And the only way to escape,
The only way to live, is One.


I'm done.

-Justin
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